


Ritterliche Tapferkeit

by Marshmallows



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Crushes, Gen, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-02 06:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10212035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmallows/pseuds/Marshmallows
Summary: The trials and tribulations of the vice captain of the Order of the Black Dragons. A four part story about the rollercoaster of infatuation.





	1. Lancelot

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday GBF and yay, Dragon Knights skins!! I am no longer F2P……………
> 
> I kinda wanted to wait until we got more chapters of the Defender's Oath manga, but got really excited and wrote all of this out. Certain things may be later disproved by canon. I wanted to write a) cheerleader Vane and b) Black Dragon days, and so here we are. 
> 
> Siegfried/Lancelot here is not the focus, since Lancelot ends up not confessing, but it is the core – I wouldn’t say the relationship is one-sided necessarily ~~(Help, I don’t get the tags, there’s so many to choose!)~~ Feel free to read this as gen. This was more an exercise in OT4 interactions so I can develop their voice. I love these nerds a lot and I hope I do justice to their characters. Thank you for reading!

It dawned on him one day.

The way his heart soared at the sight of him. 

The way he made every excuse under the sun to prolong their time together. 

The way everything and everyone seemed to remind him of _him_. 

Vane grinned from ear to ear. “You like him.”

Lancelot jumped, caught. 

It was a quiet day when newly appointed vice captain Lancelot and average recruit Vane were able to spend time together. Lancelot had apologised first thing to Vane when they first caught sight of one another, but Vane had brushed the thought away the second it was mentioned. It was nice merely to get the chance to see each other, and so they wasted no time in catching up. Lancelot regaled tales of his current duties, but steadily, he noticed the grin on Vane’s face growing wider and wider. During a lull in the conversation, Lancelot interrogated him as to why and Vane had immediately answered.

“Am I… Was I that obvious?” Lancelot said, his voice hollow. 

Vane chuckled. “I know the faces you make, Lan-chan. It was obvious to me!”

“What do you propose I do, Vane?” Lancelot fretted quietly. 

“Hmm, well, have you told him?” Vane offered. 

“I cannot be so bold!” Lancelot immediately interjected.

All of a sudden, Vane had a grin a mile wide. Lancelot immediately felt his face drop. Whatever it was behind him – Lancelot spun on the spot and saw Siegfried approaching. He felt the wind rush in his ears and his heart nearly stop, but Siegfried was not stopping in his advance towards them. 

“There you are, Lancelot. It’s unlike you to be late,” Siegfried said gently when he came within earshot. 

When he received no answer, Vane dug his elbow into Lancelot’s ribs. Lancelot felt himself stumble, but he quickly jolted upright and saluted. 

“I’m sorry, sir! It will never happen again, sir!” Lancelot chanted, his gaze anywhere but Siegfried. 

“It’s alright,” Siegfried said. “Is something the matter? What were you discussing to make you forget the time?”

Lancelot felt himself freeze, but Vane immediately interjected with, “Just home stuff, sir. We're childhood friends.”

“I see… I hope everything is alright back home...” Siegfried said quietly. “I do apologise. I know it is rude of me to take Lancelot away when you were discussing important matters, but there’s not much time in the day.”

“It’s cool,” Vane said, flashing a grin.

“Well, we must be off,” Siegfried said, bowing his head slightly. He turned to Lancelot. “Lancelot, are you ready?” 

“Yes!” Lancelot chirped.

Lancelot stepped forward to join Siegfried, before they both turned back. Lancelot waved to Vane and Siegfried inclined his head. 

“Thank you for your hard work, if you need any time off, please submit a request,” Siegfried said gently. 

“Yes, sir!” Vane said. Then, extra loudly: “Have fun, Lan-chan!”

Lancelot closed his eyes and counted to ten as they walked away.

“Lan-chan?” Siegfried repeated, a smile in his voice.

“Please… ignore him, sir,” Lancelot said quietly, red already rising in his cheeks. 

“It’s cute.”

Lancelot stopped in his tracks. Siegfried turned back when he realised he had no one accompanying him, and he looked back at him, confused. 

“Is something the matter, Lancelot?” 

“Nothing!” Lancelot said, a little too loudly. “Let us make haste!”

Immediately, Lancelot marched past Siegfried. His face was burning.

Their lesson began in earnest once they arrived at the training grounds. Often scheduled on days when there were no pressing matters at hand, and at times when the daylight was bright, Lancelot found himself looking forward to each and every session. When Percival was not there, it was time that he and Siegfried could spend alone. His heart had fluttered at every touch, his cheeks had flushed at every compliment. Vane’s prompt only made him realise why. It is this distraction that Lancelot now buried within his heart, and the weight of it caused him to stumble. 

“Your grip is wrong,” Siegfried said. 

Lancelot gulped, and adjusted his hands. Wooden practice swords were much lighter than his specially crafted twin swords, but still his mind was thick with fog. 

“Here too,” Siegfried tapped Lancelot’s other hand. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Lancelot mumbled. He changed his grip, pulled back into a battle stance. 

“Relax,” Siegfried said softly. He enclosed his fingers around Lancelot’s right hand, and Lancelot took in a sharp intake of air. Siegfried was helping him adjust his fingers, but all Lancelot could think in his head was how rough and worn his hands were. 

“Your body’s too tense,” Siegfried said. “You’ll tire more easily.”

Lancelot began to demonstrate. His style looked like dancing especially to the untrained eye, and Lancelot soared through the air as he presented himself to Siegfried. Lancelot landed. Slashed. Parried. Fought thin air. 

Finally: “Is something the matter, Lancelot?”

Lancelot stood upright and looked guiltily over at Siegfried.

“Your concentration seems to be all over the place today. Your movements are usually precise and meticulous. Is something on your mind?” Siegfried wasn’t stern; he was sad. That seemed to hit Lancelot much harder than necessary. “Was it your friend? Do you both need time off?” 

“No,” Lancelot shook his head. “I wish to keep training.”

Siegfried hesitated for a while. He seemed really eager to want to say something; but in the end, he decided to back down. “I’ll go fetch Percival,” Siegfried said quietly. “Train by yourself for now. He’s in my quarters, so I won’t be long.”

Before Lancelot could enquire why exactly Percival was in Siegfried’s quarters, Siegfried had already marched away. Lancelot was left with himself and he stood there, watching the back of his mentor disappear quietly. 

Immediately, Lancelot swiped at the air in front of him. A swath of ice followed his arm’s path, and Lancelot glared at the boy in the reflection. Clenching his fist shattered the ice into a million glittering pieces and Lancelot let out a long breath that chilled the air around him.

A swipe upwards with his left sword. Then with his right. A series of cuts. Scythes of ice sliced through the air. And Lancelot leapt. 

“Weiss Flugel!”

Lancelot landed and stabbed at the ground. For a second, he almost seemed ready to stand back up, but all too suddenly, his legs failed him and he fell backwards onto his ass. His eyes screwed shut, Lancelot took a deep breath in as the fists still on the hilts of his swords tightened. 

He roared as he pushed himself up to stand on his feet. Plucking his swords out of the ground, he set to work on honing his stabs. 

Lancelot was only able to get in two techniques when he spotted Siegfried trotting back to the training grounds with a Percival sulking behind him. Lancelot lowered his swords, and bowed his head. Siegfried bowed back, his face apologetic.

“Apologies for this. If I had known you two would spar, I would have set up a time with you both,” Siegfried said, once he was within earshot of Lancelot. 

“I was meant to be doing something else,” Percival said grumpily.

“Don’t lie, Percival. You love fighting me,” Lancelot grinned at him. 

Percival only huffed through his nose. 

“Just one moment,” Siegfried said. Even if he was captain, Siegfried scurried off into the armoury, leaving his students behind in the open courtyard. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Percival growled when they were alone. 

“Percival?” Lancelot said quietly.

“When Siegfried came to fetch me, he was really worried about you. What’s wrong with you?” Percival repeated.

“He was…?” Lancelot said, his voice barely registering to himself.

“Look, Lancelot,” Percival turned to face him directly, one hand resting against his hip. “Besides Siegfried himself, you’re one of the best here. I won’t have you faltering. We’re rivals, and I won’t be satisfied if I end up defeating you whilst you have your head in the clouds!”

“Are you worried about me?” 

“Like I said-”

“You’re worried about me.” 

“Listen!”

“Percival!” Lancelot threw his arms wide. Remarkably, Percival met that with the enthusiasm of a cat threatened with a bath. 

“Don’t. You. Dare,” Percival spoke through gritted teeth.

“Percival!” Lancelot hopped forward a step, his arms wide and ready.

“No!” Percival’s cry was drowned out by Lancelot’s cheery laughter as he claimed Percival up in a hug. He tried to flail out of Lancelot’s arms. “Unhand me!”

Siegfried cleared his throat to signal his return, and the two separated and jumped to attention. He handed each of them some sparring gear. 

“It seems today hasn’t been going as planned. Apologies again, Lancelot. This is cutting into your training time,” Siegfried said gently as he tightened the straps on Lancelot’s chest guard first.

“Please, sir,” Lancelot said. He breathed out when Siegfried was finished and felt the weight of his gear bear down upon him. “These things happen.”

“But still, you are my responsibility,” Siegfried said. 

Lancelot didn’t have much time to gaze longingly at Siegfried however, because he was already tending to Percival’s straps. He watched quietly as Percival and Siegfried chattered, and felt a knot in his throat tighten.

It didn’t take long for it to dissipate however, because Percival was snapping his fingers. “Wake up!” Percival barked. 

Lancelot shook his head. He breathed out through his mouth. The air around him chilled and his face felt cold and refreshed. They stood, facing one another. 

“Lancelot, I will have nothing but your best,” Percival growled. 

“I will try,” Lancelot replied.

“No, you _will_ give me your best!” Percival swung his practice sword and its weight sounded in the air. “Come!”

Siegfried clapped his hands to signal their start. 

This was no time for distractions. Percival’s eyes were sharp, like a wolf eyeing its prey. Lancelot raised his left sword as a feint and watched as Percival’s eyes honed onto it. However, they had trained too much together and Percival’s eyes immediately darted to his right. There was a hollow thud of wood as Percival swung up his great sword and parried. He jutted out his chin, stared down at Lancelot. 

“Not enough!” Percival roared. “Lancelot, you are better than this!”

From the corner of his eye, Lancelot saw Siegfried raise his hand to his mouth. “Oh no,” Lancelot heard Siegfried say quietly to himself.

Percival ignited his wooden sword. It burst into flame. Lancelot reacted quickly, summoning a blast of ice to send Percival’s sword flying across the courtyard. Its cinders dropped to the floor. They all stared silently at its corpse. 

“That is the fifth sword you’ve destroyed, Percival,” Siegfried said quietly.

“I know,” Percival said.

“Then...” 

“I know, I know! Then stop giving me wooden swords!” Percival yelled, whipping his head to glare at Siegfried. 

Siegfried folded his arms. “My decision was not to punish you, but to help you control your flames.”

“They’re cheaper too,” Lancelot chimed in.

“That too,” Siegfried said. 

Percival huffed out loud and placed a hand on his hip. “Well, what now?”

“Perhaps you both need this,” Siegfried said gently, clapping his hands together. He turned his head to gaze at both of them. “We will end this session with some mediation.”

After Siegfried had helped them out of their sparring gear and set it aside, he ushered them both towards the grass and under the shade, and here they now sat. His two students sat facing him and each and every one of them sat cross legged. 

Siegfried breathed in loudly. “Now. Calm. Focus on your breathing. Empty your mind of thoughts.”

Lancelot heard Percival huff out loud again, but still, he was obedient. The Dragonslayer seemed to have a talent for taming all those who controlled flame. 

“Place your hand on your diaphragm, feel it expand,” Siegfried began counting and the pair breathed to his rhythm. The birds were still and the sky was empty of song. There was only Siegfried’s voice: calm and gentle.

“Don’t fall asleep, Lancelot,” Percival mumbled under his breath.

“Percival,” Siegfried said quietly, his eyes still closed. 

His mind had been a fog, and even though Siegfried was the cause, his voice was now lulling him into a peaceful bliss. Lancelot let himself be carried by those baritones, imagined still lakes and fields as far as the eye could see. Lancelot saw himself, flat on his back, spread eagled as his fingers grazed grass. His blue eyes reflected the sky. Everything was calm, everything was still. 

“And,” Siegfried clapped. “That signals the end.”

Lancelot blinked himself awake. The landscapes vanished and he was back in the courtyard, and there was Siegfried again, a fond smile on his lips. 

“Please reflect on what you have done this session. We’ll meet again in two days time,” Siegfried said, offering a slight smile. 

Again, Siegfried offered to be the one to return equipment and left his students to themselves. Percival stepped away from Lancelot, his back turned. 

“Take care of yourself,” Percival’s voice was almost soft for a moment. It however grew back into a growl in an instant. “And don’t slack off!” With that: he was gone.

Within his chest mingled a set of feelings, and with his heavy heart, Lancelot made his way back to the knights’ quarters to rest. However, as he made his way across the courtyard and was nearing the overhead balcony, he heard a loud voice ring out. 

“Oi! Lan-chan!”

There was only one person who used that nickname. Lancelot lifted his head, and sure enough, he saw Vane, waving both his arms wildly in the air. If he wasn’t careful, he’d surely fall off the edge… Lancelot quickly shushed that worried voice in his head. 

“How was training?” Vane bellowed out each syllable. Lancelot wasn’t quite sure what the size of his lungs were.

Lancelot shook his head, and beckoned for Vane to come downstairs. He gave a quick thumbs up to make sure he wasn’t being rude and ignoring his question too.

Vane chose to ignore that. “It was good?” Vane kept shouting.

Lancelot sighed, and did quick double takes to survey the area. The coast was clear, and Lancelot cupped both his hands around his mouth. “It was okay!” He answered back.

Vane mimicked Lancelot, even if his voice was enough to carry his words. “Only ‘okay’?” Vane added a touch of concern to his shout.

Lancelot did another double take around the area. “I was nervous!” 

“Oh no!” Vane shouted. Vane’s effort to make his voice loud sounded like sarcasm, but Lancelot knew Vane wasn’t a sarcasm person. 

“Come downstairs!” Lancelot shouted.

“I can’t! Going on a hunting mission!” Vane shouted back. “Tell me everything when we next see each other!” 

“I don’t know when that will be!” Lancelot continued to shout through his makeshift megaphone. 

“Then, you better remember!” Vane shouted back, his hands still cupped around his mouth too. 

“I will try!”

“I’ll be back!” Vane grinned. 

“Stay safe, Vane!” 

“You too, Lan-chan!” And with that, Vane scampered off with his halberd slung over his shoulder, humming a song to himself. 

Lancelot sighed once he was alone again. 

Immediately, he shook his head. He refused to let himself sink into the depths of his own mind. He breathed out deeply, felt the tingle of ice refresh himself. He was already in loose clothes for his training. He made sure his shoes were tied, and then he was off. He began running, lifting one heavy foot after another, and pushed himself further. 

The wind whipped back his hair as he ran. It slashed at his cheeks, but he felt his eyes brightening. Lancelot made sure to concentrate on his breathing, heard his voice gasp for air as his lungs worked hard to provide for his tired muscles. Lancelot felt his body begin to falter, but still, he wanted to keep going. He wanted to clear his mind. He didn’t want to think. He knew, he knew that if he began to think, the ball would begin rolling and his thoughts would jumble together and all he’d think of would be Siegfried.


	2. Vane

It felt good to be needed. So often was Lancelot the one seeking Siegfried that knowing Siegfried held him in such favour made his heart soar. 

“Thank you, Lancelot. If you were not by my side, I would not know where I’d be right now,” Siegfried said gently. 

Lancelot said nothing that would betray him as he draped the heavy coat across Siegfried’s broad shoulders. In the dim light of Siegfried’s quarters, Lancelot pulled back to take a look at Siegfried’s overall appearance. Siegfried stood there, like a lump, and blinked. Lancelot would often hear the maids in the castle describe Siegfried as an ‘unkempt beauty’, and he agreed whole heartedly. Usually giving little interest to his appearance save for practicality, seeing Siegfried all dressed up for the upcoming ball was an absolute delight for Lancelot. His suit was trim, his usually limp hair was now brushed and full of life. Lancelot felt an odd pride swell in his chest. 

“How do I look?” Siegfried said, lifting his arms awkwardly. 

How was Lancelot meant to respond? ‘You look fantastic in whatever you wear, Siegfried’? ‘You’d look good naked, Siegfried’? ‘Please take me, Siegfried’? Lancelot settled on: “Good.”

“Thank you,” Siegfried said, gently smiling. He fiddled with the scarf draped around his shoulders. “Am I not meant to tie this?”

“It accents the coat, sir!” Lancelot chirped. 

“Everything feels heavy...” said the man who normally wore plates of heavy black armour. 

“All in the name of fashion, sir!” Lancelot chimed. It wasn’t he who had picked the outfit, but still, he wished to thank all the stars in the sky for this blessing. 

“Lancelot...” Siegfried didn’t continue his sentence for so long that Lancelot tilted his head in concern. “...Can you watch Isabella for me?”

“Yes, sir?” Lancelot said quietly. 

“I apologise… I do not know if I should alarm you… But you are my voice,” Siegfried lifted his head and stared straight at Lancelot. “I trust you to keep an eye on Isabella.”

“Siegfried, sir? What do you suspect?” Lancelot said, his voice quiet. 

Siegfried appeared heavily conflicted. He pursed his lips. “Just… my intuition is all. Please.” 

Siegfried wouldn’t say more than that, not even when Lancelot pressed him gently, because Siegfried was suddenly made aware of the time. He ushered him onward, not wishing to delay the king. 

Lancelot was dazzled when he entered the hall with Siegfried. He had never seen so much food in one place, so many people in one place. He saw dukes, and lords, and ladies in all their regalia. Everyone that mattered was gathered under one roof that night. The air was thick with excitement. 

Feendrache had only recently come into wealth, but people had been quick to adopt it. Lancelot passed women in dazzling full length gowns, men in suits with pocket watches. He saw pearls and gold and jewels. It all felt quite overwhelming. He breathed in deeply, tried his best to calm himself; when he spotted Vane, all in décor, on guard at one of the many large doors. They waved to each other from across the hall, and Lancelot felt the knot in his chest loosening. Lancelot and Siegfried approached the throne where King Josef lay waiting, and Siegfried separated from his side. Instead, Lancelot stepped in line with Percival, who nodded his head in acknowledgement to his presence. They exchanged glances at one another, before looking upon their Captain. 

King Josef rose and silence swept the hall in an instant. 

“We make this toast today to celebrate the efforts of Consul Isabella!” King Josef declared. “It is thanks to her discovery of the primal beast, Sylph, that we may now enjoy our spoils today!”

Isabella smiled to herself, bowing her head to the deafening roar of clapping. 

The ball finally began in earnest. It was all too much for Lancelot however and he sunk into a corner to tend to his empty stomach. As he sat and watched people dance, he took small sips of his wine, for nights where he ended up blacking out reminded him too often of his low tolerance. Lancelot recalled all the taverns he and Vane had tore through when they were younger, and smiled when he thought of how out of place he felt here in the ballroom. 

“Why are you all the way back here?” 

Lancelot picked his head up and saw Percival standing over him. Lancelot smiled and shrugged. 

“Do you not know how to dance?” Percival continued.

“I’m afraid so,” Lancelot said. 

“That’s impossible.”

“How so?” Lancelot was curious. 

“I’ve seen you fight. You have control of your body. Your movements are elegant and refined. I could spend hours watching you,” Percival stared down at Lancelot. 

Lancelot was speechless. “How… How do you say these things with a straight face?”

“Why should I be afraid to speak the truth?” Percival said, entirely with a straight face. 

Lancelot sighed. “That’s… not what I meant.”

“You’re peculiar, Lancelot.”

“You’re one to talk,” Lancelot instantly rebutted. 

“We could spend all night arguing, or I could be using my time to teach you how to dance,” Percival said, placing his hand on his hip.

“Percival?” Lancelot was wide eyed. 

“We’re vice captains. I don’t want you beseeching our name,” Percival turned his head and watched the dancing crowd.

“Ah, and there’s the real reason,” Lancelot sighed as he nodded to himself. 

“What other reason could there be?” Percival said, turning back to Lancelot.

Lancelot smiled to himself and shook his head. “No reason, no reason.”

Lancelot stood up and using his long coattails, performed a quick curtsy, allowing Percival the role of the leader. Once they were clear of accidentally bumping into the table, Percival guided Lancelot into where he should position his hands. They stood together in that corner isolated from the rest of the ballroom floor, and Percival began. He counted with a strong, clear voice, stepped forward as Lancelot stepped back, and they deployed onwards on their first steps together. 

“Dancing is the same as fighting. You react to your opponent – or partner, in this case,” Percival said, once Lancelot was beginning to get comfortable with the box step. 

“Oh I know that feeling all too well with you,” Lancelot chuckled. 

“Lancelot, you do get on my nerves at times,” Percival scowled. 

Lancelot smiled. “As to you, Percival.” 

“Why must you do this?”

“It is because your flames are weak to my ice.”

“I don’t remember that being the case,” Percival said, frowning.

“People block out traumatic memories,” Lancelot was grinning.

“I do not enjoy holding your hand as you berate me, Lancelot. Are we dancing or not?” Percival stopped on the spot.

“Yes, yes. Lead me,” Lancelot stepped back and dragged Percival into leading him again. 

To the tune of the waltz in the distance, Percival began to guide Lancelot into turns. 

“I can see this getting dizzying...” Lancelot remarked.

“You spin through the air with your final attack!” Percival retorted. 

“You know full well that somersaults and rolls are the fastest ways to create distance between you and your opponent,” Lancelot lectured. 

“Yes, and that spinning creates velocity. But that is not what we are doing right now,” Percival squeezed Lancelot’s hand. “We are dancing right now.”

“I believe it was you who started this line of conversation.”

Due to the rate of their arguing, they quickly abandoned their original plan of learning how to dance. Percival sighed as he leaned against the wall next to Lancelot, who had returned to his original seat. 

Lancelot spotted Vane, now a lot closer and now chattering brightly with a new partner. He must have switched posts with someone else. Lancelot imagined that wouldn’t have been hard for him; he was popular even among the newest recruits. Women were a different story however. Somehow they always went straight past Vane and then, Lancelot would have to uncomfortably reject them because his heart already belonged to someone else. Lancelot was lost reminiscing at the sight of Vane’s face, when Vane noticed him looking over and quickly clapped. Lancelot gave an embarrassed wave back. 

“Where are you from?” Percival’s voice reminded him that he was there. 

“Just a small village away from the capital. I came here with a close friend,” Lancelot said, his eyes on Vane, who was now back to chatting. 

“That explains why,” Percival said, fiddling with a lock of hair. 

“You’re from… Wales, wasn’t it?” Lancelot glanced up at Percival.

“Correct.” 

“Do you visit often? How are your friends?”

Percival was silent.

“Well…” Lancelot fidgeted. “Do you have vassals back home?”

“No,” Percival turned his head to look at Lancelot. “My vassals are a personal project.”

“Your utopia, right?”

“Yes,” Percival folded his arms. “I _will_ create it when the time comes. I just need to learn a lot more first.”

“I wish you could give some of that confidence to Vane,” Lancelot said wistfully, his eyes wandering back to him. He was dancing with the air, and his partner was laughing.

“Who?” Percival’s response was instant.

Lancelot tore his eyes away. “I’d talk your ear off about him. Let’s talk about something else,” His mind wandered back to probing Percival’s peculiar habits. “Why did you not ask Siegfried?”

“He’s already someone else’s,” Percival said grumpily. 

Lancelot felt his heart in his throat. “What do you mean?”

Percival nodded his head towards where Siegfried was. “I would like Siegfried as mine, but alas…” 

However what Percival had to say was drowned out by the sudden roaring in Lancelot’s ears. His words were a weight that plummeted to his stomach. Suddenly, it all clicked. He watched Siegfried talk to King Josef and he knew. He knew where his heart belonged. He didn’t need to ask Siegfried to confirm. He knew. He knew. He knew. 

Lancelot swallowed the lump down his throat. He swallowed his words. 

How could he compete with the king for his affections? 

“Lan-chan?” He heard a voice say quietly somewhere. 

“Lan-chan!” was all Lancelot heard when suddenly he felt himself being dragged away. The cold air of night stung his cheeks and suddenly, Lancelot awoke. 

“Vane?” Lancelot blurted out in utter confusion. “You’re meant to be on guard duty!”

“Yeah, but that can wait,” Vane said quickly. “Look at you! Lan-chan, tell me what’s wrong.”

It was dark outside of the castle, but it was hard to miss the concern Vane had all over his face. The lights of the castle shone upon him, but Lancelot was still mired in shadow. The din of chatter carried all the way outside, and yet it merely reminded them that they were two souls all alone. Vane grasped Lancelot’s hands tight. 

“Siegfried… He… He…” Lancelot was lost. 

“He? He?” Vane said, nodding his head. 

“He won’t love me,” Lancelot said, his voice hollow. 

Vane pulled Lancelot into a hug and Lancelot squeezed the air out of Vane. 

“You haven’t told him yet though!” Vane interjected, his face a picture of worry that Lancelot could not see. 

“No, Vane! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” Lancelot held on tighter, the cold steel of Vane’s armour searing into his hands. 

With that, it was final. Lancelot had decided that Siegfried was in love with King Josef. He didn’t need to tell him. He didn’t need confirmation from his lips to shatter his heart. And with that, Lancelot took a vow of silence. 

Vane ripped Lancelot from his chest. “Lan-chan! Ten star jumps! Right now!” He barked. 

“What?” Lancelot mumbled.

“Star jumps! Ten of ‘em! Right now!” 

“But you’re wearing armour,” Lancelot said. “And carrying a halberd. And I’m in a suit.”

“Doesn’t matter!” Vane quickly knelt down and placed his halberd gently on the floor. “Star jumps! I’m gonna start counting right now!”

Lancelot sighed, but Vane had already spread his arms and legs wide to get ready. Lancelot followed suit, and soon enough, they were doing star jumps. The clang, clang, clang of Vane’s armour rang through the still night. Lancelot crumpled up his face, tried not to laugh, but found it harder and harder not to.

“More! Ten more star jumps! You’re laughing! You’re not exhausted yet!” Vane bellowed at the top of his voice. He began again. Lancelot joined him. 

“Alright, now ten burpees!” Vane was breathing heavily. 

“No!” Lancelot interjected. “Not burpees! Not in a suit, and not with you in armour!”

“Alright then, ten push ups! Let’s go!” Vane beamed, even though he had a slick sheet of sweat forming on his forehead. 

“No, Vane, no...” Lancelot said quietly. “Vane…”

Lancelot shook his head, sank to his knees, buried his head in his hands. He felt Vane’s hands clamp onto his arms, knew Vane had joined him on the floor without even seeing him. 

“Listen, Lan-chan,” Lancelot heard Vane say gently. “You’ll get through this. I’m here. All the knights are here for you. You’re our vice captain. But here, tonight, I’m here for you.”

“Go back to guard duty, Vane,” Lancelot mumbled.

“But, listen, Lan-chan! Not until I know you’re okay! I’m not leaving. Someone’s already covered for me.” 

“Liar,” Lancelot grumbled.

“Yeah, sure, maybe. But who cares! It’s just one night I’m slacking off. I’m usually a good knight!” 

“Vane, go!”

“Not until you’ve woken up, Lancelot!”

Lancelot lifted his head, stared at Vane. His face was fierce, his eyes determined. 

Vane shook him by the shoulders. “Lan-chan. Get out of your head. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get _out_.”

Lancelot stared at him, his eyes wild. 

“Lan-chan! You’re always been amazing to me! You’re always so dedicated, and always so strong. But sometimes that gets you down. Sometimes you get bogged down with one thing. You let your room get messy because you get obsessing over one thing, and then suddenly, boom, I have to do your laundry.”

“Are you telling me off?” Lancelot mumbled quietly.

“No! Lan-chan! You’re important to me! And seeing you so sad right now makes me sad! I want to cheer you up! I want to see you smile! I’ll make you dozens and dozens of macarons, so much that we’ll go into food comas and we won’t be able to remember a thing!”

Lancelot began to smile, until it quickly fell into a frown. “Macarons are comprised mainly of sugar… I can’t binge them…” 

“Says the guy who ate 5 boxes the first time he found out about them,” Vane said. 

“Vane!” Lancelot had a warning tone, but still, he found he was smiling. “You’re meant to be cheering me up!”

“And I am!” Vane retorted. “Look! C’mon. It’ll be better than drinking away your sorrows.” 

“They’re both not good for me...” Lancelot mumbled, sulking. 

“Well then, we gotta workout,” Vane pushed himself off the floor and stuck out his hand. Lancelot accepted it, and he was pulled to his feet. “Last one down the stairs has to make the macarons!”

“Wait-” But Vane was already off. Lancelot sighed heavily and ran after him, but as the wind whipped his cheeks, Lancelot realised that Vane was right. This was the right angle of approach. The cold night air swept through his hair, and everything became a blur, but his mind was numbing with the effort of exercise. 

“Get your arm workout for the day!” Vane called over to Lancelot.

“Fifty push ups! Loser has to do fifty push ups too!” Lancelot yelled. 

Lancelot charged down the castle steps: one, two, three, four, they all became a blur. He saw Vane beside him, a grin stretched across his face even though he was in heavy ornate armour. He felt so alive as blood rushed through his veins.

In the end, Lancelot was the winner. He spread his arms wide at the bottom of the stairs, proud. Ready with a retort, he turned, and saw Vane stood a few steps away from the finish line. 

“Looks like you win, Lan-chan,” Vane said. His breathing was strangely even. 

Lancelot hesitated. “Vane,” He said gently.

“Looks like my arm’s gonna take a beating from all those egg whites!” Vane grinned widely. He slapped a hand onto his biceps and flexed. “But that’s why I’m bigger, Lan-chan!”

“Oh?” Lancelot turned completely around to face Vane and placed his hands on his hips. “That’s just genetics, Vane!”

“Whatever you say, Lan-chan,” Vane giggled as he descended the stairs to stand with Lancelot.

“Being big means being slower!” Lancelot interjected. “I have agility on my side.”

“Oh? Another race? To the town square?” Vane had a mischievous grin. 

“You’re on,” Lancelot yelled, knocking arms with Vane before they both set off. 

One in armour and one in a suit: the duo tore through the streets as fast as they could. They screamed as they ran, their emotions tearing out of their lungs, and they ran and ran until the cold night air ravaged at their lungs and it was painful to breathe and tears formed in the corners of Lancelot’s eyes, and Lancelot felt sick to his stomach. But he felt free, he was so free. 

It was nearing 1am. The town square was deserted, save for these two knights leaning on the fountain that adorned its centre. They sat collapsed, doing nothing but panting for the next few minutes. 

“Good workout, huh?” Vane managed to say when he caught his breath. 

“I think a seam broke...” Lancelot mumbled, standing up and feeling up his own bottom. 

“I’ll sew it up for you,” Vane said, sticking out his hand. 

“With what needle and thread?” Lancelot said, turning to look at him and smirking. 

“Don’t you know?” Vane attempted his best female impression. “I’m your fairy godmother! I’ll fix your clothes in a jiffy and you’ll be able to go to the ball!”

Lancelot threw his head back and laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed. But all he wanted to do was cry. Before he could begin to sob at how pathetic his behaviour was, he heard Vane say tenderly behind him: “I’m glad you’re able to laugh now.”

“Vane, I could have been crying right now,” Lancelot said quietly, hugging his arms. 

“There’s nothing wrong with crying, Lan-chan. Cry. It’s good to cry. You need to cry. Let it out,” Vane said. “But know this, Lan-chan. I’ll be here for you. You can go ahead and cry until you look butt ugly, and I’ll be here to make you macarons, and we can go running and running until we can’t breathe again, and we can go drinking until we can’t stand, and we can go do anything you want and I’ll be there to help.”

“Vane,” Lancelot turned to him. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “You’re important to me, you know that? I don’t say that enough, but you are. You’re important to me.”

“Aw, cheers, pal!” Vane beamed. Lancelot offered him a hand, and Vane grasped it tightly before being pulled to his feet.

Lancelot quickly slung his arm over Vane’s shoulders. They stank of sweat. “Alright, now let’s get drunk!”

Vane’s arm shot high up into the air. “Let’s get drunk!” 

And so that night, they got pissed. Just as Cinderella left her shoe behind at the ball, Vane had left his halberd at the top of the stairs. People who left the ball that way wondered who had left it there that night, but all they knew was that it was sanctioned knight property. 

Siegfried stared quietly at the halberd as he picked it up. He turned it over, felt the groove of steel, praised its owner’s maintenance of such a worn out weapon. Down the stairs he gazed with it in hand; alas he saw nothing but shadows.


	3. Percival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can’t spell **S** ie **g** fried/L **an** celo **t** without angst.

Rain. All he remembered was rain.

Lancelot tore through the corridors of the castle. His feet pounded against the soft carpet. Blood roared in his ears. His heart thudded in his ribcage. 

Knights were swarming this way and that. They were headless chickens in a tide, and Lancelot had to fight his way through them. He heard the bellow of a woman’s deep voice. 

“Get him! Capture him! Find him!” Isabella spat. “Don’t let him escape!”

Lancelot burst open the doors of the throne room. Something heavy had been blocking his path, and Lancelot blasted it down in an explosion of ice. 

Blood. Blood. Blood. 

There was Siegfried amidst the chaos. His armour: a shadow. His shadow: a monster. 

He was cradling someone. 

He was dead. He was dead. He was dead. 

He was cradling a corpse. 

Murderer. 

_Kingslayer._

“You’re wrong!” Lancelot found himself screaming. “Siegfried would never kill the King!”

Everything happened so fast. Knights swarmed in: witnesses. Siegfried killed the King. Siegfried killed the King.

Lancelot’s feet were cement. 

Siegfried was gone. Siegfried was gone.

Percival. He had to find Percival. Percival was close to Siegfried. He would know. Percival would know. 

He found Percival. He found Percival in Siegfried’s quarters.

“He’s gone,” Percival said. His voice was hollow. His eyes were wide. He was in shock. “He’s gone.”

Lancelot’s heart sank.

Rain. All he remembered was rain.


	4. Siegfried

“Have you talked to him yet?” Lancelot asked gently.

“No,” Percival tightened his grip on the railing. “What’s the point in dragging out the past?”

“This isn’t about ‘dragging out’ the past, Percival. This is for you. This is for you to bury the past,” Lancelot stared, defiant. 

Percival stared back, quiet. The Grancypher soared through the night sky without a whisper. People were now dining, Percival had come up for air. Lancelot had followed, an inquiry on his lips. When Lancelot and Vane joined the Grancypher not too long ago, White and Black Dragons had their fates entwined once more, and though their stay would be temporary; the current and former captains and vice captains had spent many a night together. Whether it be reminiscing or merely enjoying each other’s company, it was nostalgic – and though their paths were set on course for the future, each and every one of their faces reminded the other of their shared pasts. Here now stood Lancelot, in the middle of confronting Percival.

“That’s… what the Captain said to me,” Percival finally said.

Lancelot smiled. “I’m glad you’ve found each other.”

Percival huffed through his nose and raised his hand to cover his mouth, but Lancelot swore he had glimpsed a smile. Percival cleared his throat and placed that same hand on his hip. “What about you and that guy?” 

“Who is ‘that guy’?” Lancelot said, not hiding his smile. 

“ _That guy_ ,” Percival repeated, only more insistently. When Lancelot only smirked at him: “Your vice captain.”

“What’s my vice captain’s name?” Lancelot said, a song in his voice. 

“Vane, alright! Vane!” Percival barked. “Now, answer me.”

“We all talked after the incident with Isabella,” Lancelot said. “Unfortunately, when you two met again, it didn’t seem like you’ve had much time to talk.”

Percival remained silent for a moment. “We did talk.”

“Did you cry?” 

“I did not cry,” Percival glared at Lancelot. “Your dog interrupted us!”

“He’s not a dog,” Lancelot said, his face serious.

“You knew who I was talking about,” Percival growled.

“He’s not a dog, Percival,” Lancelot said, his voice quiet but clear. “Take it back.”

They glared at each other for a while, both unyielding. Finally, Percival huffed. “That Erune, Eustace, likes him a lot,” as if that proved his point.

“And I tell him otherwise,” Lancelot sighed. “But Vane likes the head pats.”

“It’s the only affection he gets,” Percival grunted. 

“Percival, I’ll throw you off this airship,” Lancelot’s smile was chilling. 

“You’re _a_ Captain, but you’re not my Captain,” Percival declared. However, it was too late and Lancelot was grinning from ear to ear. 

Lancelot was laughing. “‘My’! You said ‘my’!” 

“Silence at once!” Percival was red to the roots of his hair. 

“I’ve never known you to be so fond of someone!” Lancelot said brightly. 

“Cease this at once! Before I throw _you_ off the airship!” 

“I’m glad, I’m really glad,” Lancelot was beaming. 

Suddenly: “I could hear you two from inside the cabin...” Siegfried said gently as he approached the pair. “I thought Vane was here you were so loud…”

Habits remained habits and both of them sprung to attention. Siegfried couldn’t help but smile. He waved both of them down gently. “I’m no longer any of your Captains,” Siegfried said.

Percival narrowed his eyes. “What did you hear?”

“‘You’re a Captain, but you’re not my Captain,’” Siegfried recited, his voice utterly serious. 

Lancelot burst back into laughter, and Percival immediately barged past Siegfried, fuming. Siegfried blinked, taken back. It was only when Lancelot ran out of laughter and quickly cleared his throat that Siegfried began talking. 

“I haven’t heard that laughter in so long,” Siegfried said quietly. There was a gentle smile on his face. 

Lancelot opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. He swallowed his words.

“I’m glad to be by your side again, sir,” Lancelot said finally.

“The sentiment is shared,” Siegfried said. He moved closer and hung his arms over the railing. He looked up at the sky. 

Lancelot glanced at Siegfried staring so memorised at the moon. His hair had grown so much longer, his face had gathered many more lines. His ordeals had aged him, and yet he was still Siegfried. 

Lancelot opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. He swallowed his words.

It dawned on him one day.

The way his heart soared at the sight of him. 

The way he made every excuse under the sun to prolong their time together. 

The way everything and everyone seemed to remind him of _him_. 

“You like him,” Vane had said.

“I like him,” Lancelot said.

Siegfried turned, looked at Lancelot. Lancelot only looked back. Then, he turned to look up at the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! In all my years writing fic, this is my first completed longfic *confetti* I wrote all this awhile ago (Vane's chapter was written last) and wanted to release it alongside the skins' purchase period, but alas I regret I couldn't write more slice of life stuff... but that's the nature of how I planned this only as a four-parter... I had a ton of fun writing this though. Maybe I'll write more on this one day! Feel free to check out my [writing archive](https://feendrache.dreamwidth.org/) or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/weisseflugel) for future updates~ May your rolls be blessed~


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